


The Only One

by Servena



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Angst, Bad News, Character Death, Crying, Despair, Emotional Hurt, F/F, Hurt No Comfort, Love, Phone Calls & Telephones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 23:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19896319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servena/pseuds/Servena
Summary: Sayaka has cried often in her life, in many different ways. But never like this.





	The Only One

Sayaka has cried often in her life, in many different ways. She’s always teased Madoka about being a crybaby and it’s true that she doesn’t cry at sappy movies like Madoka does (not if she wasn’t alone anyway), but even the toughest girl will have cried her fair share at the age of 13. Either loudly sobbing, with quick gasps of air in between, or completely silent, lips pressed together while tears rolled down her cheeks, with her face buried in her hands or pressed against a pillow, in the dead of night or the middle of the day, alone or with the comfort of a friend or parent.

But never like this.

The scream rises from deep within her chest, and it feels like it rips her apart as it breaks out of her. It’s a howl of pain so loud it’s deafening, and yet she can’t hear anything, can’t hear Homura’s voice anymore, can just feel the way her mouth opens wide, how her fingers curl into fists, the hot tears burning in her eyes. The phone slips out of her hand and falls down onto the carpet.

And she hates her, hates her with a burning intensity for sounding so calm when she spoke those words. Somehow, maybe, this would have been better if it had been Madoka - but she heard her in the background long enough to know she’s in no capacity to talk, didn’t she? And somehow this gave it all away the moment she picked up the phone, Homura’s name on the display and Madoka’s desperate sobbing. But still she didn’t quite believe. Until. Until.

She sinks down onto the floor. I guess this is what they call wailing, she thinks dimly. She’d always thought that wailing was something old women did when the coffins of their husbands were lowered into the ground. (They’re girls. They’re not supposed to die, they’re supposed to live.) She’d never thought it’d feel like this, like the wailing takes control of you and wrings every ounce of pain out of your body until there’s nothing left of you, nothing at all.

There’s a faint awareness that she’s not alone, that her parents are here, with her, and really, what are the chances? Can’t she have this moment to her own? It’s not like they can do anything. It’s not like they ever did anything.

It’s not like anybody can do anything.

She’s glad that Homura isn’t here. She’s certain that she’d try to wrap her hands around her neck, to shake her while she’d ask, over and over again: How could you let this happen? How could you let this happen, you who claim to know so much more than us? (And Homura would shake her off like a newborn kitten, but she’d try. Oh, she’d try.)

But in the end it’s all a terrible joke, they’re all little girls and they all know nothing.

And they still die.

Her mother tries to touch her but she fights her off with her fists while she yells at the top of her lungs. It’s a terrible satisfaction to feel them connect. “Sayaka, honey, talk to me! What happened!”

“She’s dead, she’s dead, _she’s dead!_ ” Her throat burns from the screaming, the world has disappeared behind a curtain of tears.

“Who’s dead, honey?”

But there are no words to explain, no way to say – The one I loved. The only one I’ll ever love.

The only one I’ll ever get a chance to love.


End file.
